Page 15 of The Nephilim's Finesse

I bent forward, invading her space even more. “That makes two of us, sweetheart.”

Her pink lips parted, and I wanted to press my mouth on hers, devour her, make her moan, make her body quiver in pleasure as she screamed my name. I wanted to fuck the shit out of her until that animosity turned into desperation. Victorija felt my eyes on her mouth and looked up at me, her freckled cheeks blushing and unmistakable desire in her eyes. Our breaths were short and shallow as our bodies brushed against each other. Her torso expanded with each inhale, and her breasts pushed temptingly against my chest. I could feel her nipples harden beneath the fabric of her shirt, as did my cock, with anticipation for a taste of forbidden pleasure. The air crackled between us as I pressed myself against her, letting her know what she did to me. I detested her, yet I wanted to fuck her against that wall, to wipe the deprecating look off her face and replace it with a rapturous one. Lust overpowered hatred, and before I could think twice, I pushed her back against the wall, determined to make her beg for more as I showed her who was in charge.

I was about to slam my mouth on hers when I sensed something was wrong. Victorija turned white, her eyes wide. Her look was full of panic instead of desire. She breathed quickly and irregularly; sweat formed on her face, and she started to tremble. I took a step back to give her space and caught her when she slumped together, shaking violently. I let her down carefully and ensured she didn’t hit herself on the furniture.

“It’s all right. Breathe.”

She didn’t react to my words; she just lay there, riddled with spasms, staring into nothing.

“Just breathe. In and out. Slowly in and out.”

Her face contorted into a mask full of pain. She hissed and wielded her claws at an invisible enemy that only she could see. I sprang backwards so as not to be in her crossfire.

“Victorija, come back to me. You’re safe here.”

What a hypocrite I was. She had a PTSD episode because I had pressed my hard cock into her belly, because I wanted to hate fuck her. Heat rose in my face. I triggered an unpleasant memory with my unprofessional actions. Forcing myself on a woman was a no-go for me. Yet, I had the impression that she wanted this, too. Not that she would ever admit that openly; I wouldn't. But deep down, I knew that we were both affected by each other. I’d nearly lost control; she had that power over me. My behaviour was inexcusable. How could I want to rip her apart and fuck her senseless at the same time? I shook my head. This was crazy. She was driving me crazy. This had to end; it couldn't go on like this, not between us or the situation itself. The interrogation led nowhere, and I was out of options to make her talk. And I certainly didn’t want to be the reason she got panic attacks. I hated her for what she’d done, but now I understood perfectly that she had to carry her own burden. In fact, I was convinced that she had suffered a lot more than I had over the years, or centuries in her case.

It took some minutes until Victorija calmed down while I knelt beside her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself. When her eyes focused on me, I pulled my hand slowly away from her cheek. There was an awkward silence between us, as if we had caught each other in an uncomfortable situation. She sat up and slipped backwards, out of my reach. I stood up and brought even more space between us.

“I’m sorry.”

She hugged her knees, her eyes full of vulnerability when she looked up. She bobbed her head once, accepting my apology. I turned to go. There had to be an alternative to working together. I had to find a way to make her talk, to release the tension between us, and not kill each other in the process. Not difficult at all.

5 Victorija

When Raph came in the next day, I sat down in my chair and braced myself for another round of endless questioning. It was complicated: on the one hand, I wanted him to be here—it was so boring to be in this room all day, all by myself, with nothing to occupy me that I wanted to see his face, that I wanted him to talk to me. On the other hand, I despised him for holding me here, taking away my freedom, delaying my plans, asking the same questions day after day, and playing this senseless game.

Raph stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, studying me, his face emotionless, full of calculation, like it used to be. Silence stretched between us as I waited for him to begin.

“I have a proposal.” His deep voice resonated through the room.

He waited for me to say something, but I didn’t comment. I just stared back, waiting.

“You’re reluctant to offer any answer by usual question methods.” Of course not; what did he think? I knew them all, and I suffered through every one of them.

“I propose a new method: for each of your orgasms for which I’m responsible, you give me an honest answer to my question.”

I gawped at him. I must have misunderstood. “Excuse me?” I felt the heat rising in my cheeks.

He watched my reaction with an unnerving calm. “For every orgasm you have that I’m responsible for, I get an honest answer from you.”

Was he daft? What was that for a stupid proposal? I thought he was smart, but clearly, I was mistaken. Yes, I knew that the Nephilim had very lax handling concerning intimacy; rumours said they had orgies after each fight with everyone willing and available and were very open to every fantasy one could conjure. But to think that I would want to be intimate with him! How dare he? He was as thick as two short planks. And arrogant—if he thought that I could be brought to a pinnacle, something I’d never had in my entire life, and he would be the one to make it happen! Of course, he couldn't know this, however, but to even think I was willing to bed him, he wasn’t the full shilling!

“You really think I’ll accept a deal where you can rape me and then question me for it?” My voice was shrill, and I willed myself to calm down again.

He shook his head. “I'd never force myself on you or anyone else.”

Then how'd he think that his deal could work? Did he really think that I would give myself to him? How naive was he?

I tilted my head. “You won’t question me with any other method save that one?”

He bobbed his head.

“You won’t force yourself on me and won’t force me to do something that I don’t want to?”

He nodded again. “You won’t come anyway if you have to do something you don’t want to, so yes.”

“And if I don’t have an orga—a climax, you won’t bother me?”

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